


Not So Untouchable

by CanonConvergence18



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mental Health Issues, Multiple Personalities, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanonConvergence18/pseuds/CanonConvergence18
Summary: After breaking up with Gambit, Rogue finds herself drawn to the reclusive Prodigy. While they try to navigate the struggles that come with their gifts, they must also deal with the increasingly precarious situation of mutants everywhere. As dangerous forces begin marshalling against the dream of mutant equality, these two must discover whether their own dream can become reality.
Relationships: David Alleyne/Rogue
Comments: 8
Kudos: 1





	1. On the edge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to all of my prior readers and welcome to any newcomers! This is my first attempt at an X-Men fic, even though I've been a longtime fan of the franchise. In keeping with my prior works, I'm using this as a chance to explore a rare pairing. While I'm certainly a Rogue/Gambit shipper, I ended up being extremely intrigued by the idea of matching her with Prodigy, for reasons I hope will become clear.
> 
> This story is not situated in any particular continuity; rather I pick elements I like from various movies, shows, and the few X-Men comics I've read, while also wildly inventing my own bits at random. Given this, I can't guarantee that characterization will match up perfectly with what you may or may not be used to. That said, I hope to stay true to the core of the characters and explore some facets of their personalities I feel don't always get highlighted the way they should. Please enjoy!

The thing that struck Rogue the most about the compound was how blatant it was. They could have made an effort to disguise their obviously anti-mutant intentions, for the sake of appearances if nothing else. But no, the logo of the Purifiers was displayed proudly on every building, along with numerous other posters and signs, the mildest of which still would have turned even the strongest stomachs.

For Christ’s sake, they had a Sentinel head displayed right out in the open!

Rogue dutifully took pictures of the dismembered robot, along with the rifles, rocket launchers, and other assorted military grade goods. She made sure to get as many face shots as possible too, just in case. The long-distance camera Prodigy had given her for the assignment was more than up to the task, even though she was a thousand feet above the ground. Personally, she’d have preferred getting a few close ups of the less friendly variety, but the Professor had been very clear about not wanting her to engage the cultists at all. They couldn’t be sure what kind of tech the Purifiers had picked up, and they might very well have samples of the Cure, or even Sentinel power suppressors. Better not to risk it.

 _Cuz losin’ my powers would be a real shame_ , Rogue thought sarcastically to herself. Although even she could admit that this wasn’t a group she’d want to be vulnerable around. They had a dangerous, almost rabid edge that she’d seen way too often. Their grins were more like grimaces, and she’d already seen two fights break out in the short time she’d been watching them. Definitely not the gentlemanly types, even if she weren’t a mutant, and she could easily imagine what they might do with a powerless woman...

The anger that rose in her at the thought was not entirely her own. With a sigh, she lowered the camera and gently closed her eyes.

_Get down there! Beat them all into the next century!_

The voice ringing in her head was also not her own; it was higher pitched, and much louder.

 _C’mon Marvel, you know this ain’t the time,_ she thought, albeit reluctantly.

_You know what they are! Don’t let them walk free! End it here!_

For a moment, Rogue twitched in midair, fighting two separate impulses before finally reasserting control over herself.

_Shut it, Carol, I don’t wanna deal with this today!_

Reluctantly, the shrill voice subsided, although flickers of anger and resentment still bubbled up occasionally.

Deciding it was best not to tempt her subconscious ride-along more than necessary, Rogue took a few more shots before stowing the camera and turning in the air to begin the short journey home. The Purifiers had set themselves up in northeastern Pennsylvania, worryingly close to the Institute. However, despite the brevity of the trip, she couldn’t stop her mind wandering to this latest manifestation of anti-mutant sentiment.

Rogue wasn’t inclined to philosophical musings about the nature of prejudice the way the Professor or Hank were. To her mind, people just sucked, and that was enough to explain the shit mutants had to deal with every day. But even _she_ could admit that things had gotten particularly volatile since the passage of the Mutant Rights Act, which established the Department of Mutant Affairs. The legislation was symbolic in more than one sense. For one, it was a public acknowledgement of the ‘humanity’ of mutants, and an apparent commitment to their protection. On the other hand though, the Department’s budget was laughably small. They could only afford a couple dozen agents to investigate crimes directed at mutants; nowhere near enough to handle the sudden rise in organized hate groups.

In the end, no one was happy. The anti-mutant psychos were livid that the government would make even the slightest gesture of acceptance, while mutants recognized the gesture for what it was: ultimately meaningless.

Now, instead of being able to finally relax and start handing off their work to someone more official, the X-Men found themselves pressed into service like never before. The DMA, flooded with more requests for help than they could possibly address, had started clandestinely coordinating with Professor Xavier. Which was how Rogue had ended up spying on the Purifiers from on high.

Not that she saw the point. The information she’d gathered would now be sent to the Department, who would appeal to the FBI for help, who in turn would almost certainly laugh the request off. They should have just brought the whole team in and smashed the place to pieces. People like this only understood the language of violence, what was the point in waiting for _them_ to make the first move?

But the Professor didn’t like handling things that way, and both Cyclops and Storm agreed with him. Together they’d pretty much put an end to any debate. They were idealists; determined to live in a world that would never exist

Rogue, on the other hand, was a consummate realist. She knew, from long, painful experience, that the world was only as good as you forced it to be. The others could pretend all they liked, but people like the Purifiers weren’t going anywhere…

Before long, she spotted home over the edge of the horizon. In the almost ten years since she’d joined the X-Men, the school had expanded considerably. The mansion was still there, but it was now surrounded by nearly a dozen newer buildings of varying size. The Xavier Institute of Higher Learning was no longer restricted to just middle and high school students. They now also housed a budding university, the first of its kind to cater specifically to mutants, along with research and training facilities, and even a small residential clinic.

The cold, calculating part of Rogue’s mind, the one that often spoke in Mystique’s voice, recognized the tactical vulnerability of such a site. The number of buildings and people now made security a much more challenging task than ever before; to say nothing of the giant target it painted for folks like the Purifiers. Nevertheless, that heavily practical concern was always drowned out by the surge of emotion she still felt every time she saw the mansion.

There was nothing quite like coming home.

She touched down on the carefully cultivated lawn in front of the mansion; what the new college age students had immediately dubbed the “Quad.” Classes were getting out, and people of all ages were flooding the Quad joyfully. Displays of mutant abilities were everywhere, several students even taking to the sky excitedly.

Rogue smiled happily at the sight, although the crowds made her nervous. She kept her gloves and suit zipped up tight and moved slowly as she pushed through the crowd to get into the mansion. Even with the care she took though, she very nearly missed a boy she didn’t recognize as he came hurtling out of nowhere.

“Whoa there, little man!” she cautioned, catching him by the shoulders about an inch before he would have collided with her. “Gotta be careful where you’re goin!”

The boy blushed and looked down, not responding.

Another student rushed up to them, gasping for breath. “I’m so sorry Professor Rogue! He’s new and I’m supposed to be guiding him around, but he’s not used to his speed just yet, and I didn’t see where he went…”

“It’s alright,” Rogue cut across the girl (Jessica, if she remembered right). “No harm no foul. What’s your name, little man?”

The boy was still looking at his feet, his face red as a cherry. “Nathaniel,” he muttered, almost too quietly for her to hear. Now that she got a proper look at him, he couldn’t have been more than twelve. An early bloomer.

Rogue felt a stab of pity for the poor kid, having to deal with his mutation so young. She knelt so she could see his face better. “Nathanial, huh? That’s a real fancy name you got there. And a pretty cool power, wouldn’t you say?”

Little Nathaniel glanced up at her shyly, his expression reserved. “My parents didn’t like me running around.”

“Well guess what?” Rogue leaned closer. “Now you get to run all you want! The Professor owns _all_ this space, and you get to wander round til you can’t run no more.”

The boy’s face lit up. “Really?”

Rogue grinned. “Really. Just make sure you’re lookin’ out for me, alright? See, my power ain’t as fun as yours, and I don’t want you gettin’ hurt if you bump into me by accident, okay?”

Nathaniel’s eyes were solemn as he nodded. Rogue smiled again, and stood, giving him a little pat on the shoulder. “It was nice to meet you Nathaniel. Now go have some fun!”

His face lit up in a grin, and then he all but vanished, the wind from his passing stirring their hair.

“I am so sorry,” Jessica said again, looking relieved that Rogue wasn’t mad. “I’ve never looked after a speedster before; it’s kind of exhausting.”

“Don’t worry,” Rogue reassured her. “It’s obvious he’s new to it; he’ll tucker himself out before too long. If you can find him, that is.”

Jessica’s expression turned worried. “Oh no. Which way did he go?” she groaned, rushing off, her head turning this way and that in a vain attempt to spot her young charge again.

Rogue chuckled as she entered the mansion, glad she’d been able to avoid adding yet another personality to her already crowded brain.

She found the Professor in his office, sorting through essays left on his desk by departing students. Even with everything he had on his plate these days, from coordinating the ever-growing team of X-Men, to advising the president on mutant rights, he still found the time to teach regularly.

“How was your trip, Rogue?” he asked as she slumped into a seat across from him. A formality only; he already knew.

She shrugged. “Went fine, didn’t get shot at. Had a little trouble with Carol.”

Xavier looked up from the essays and peered at her in concern. “Did you see something that upset her?”

“She wanted me to bust some heads. Had to reign her in a bit.” There was no need to add that she wasn’t particularly inclined to disagree.

“Would you like to talk about it?” The Professor’s expression was kindly, and she felt guilty, knowing he probably had a million other things to do than listen to her problems for the thousandth time.

“I’m alright,” she lied pointlessly, standing up. “I’ll run these on over to Prodigy, then get me a hot bath and a glass of wine. That’ll do the trick.”

Xavier pursed his lips ever so slightly but didn’t argue. And if he had any opinions about the rest of her plans, he didn’t offer them, which she was grateful for. As much as she loved the old professor, as much as he’d done for her, the total lack of mental privacy got a little tiring sometimes.

“Don’t forget, we have the Department of Education inspectors coming tomorrow,” Xavier reminded her. “Be careful with your lesson plans.”

Rogue scowled, but truth be told they were lucky to have any warning at all. As the first organization of their kind in the U.S., the government was constantly breathing down their necks. It was an experiment that many would be happy to see fail, so the Professor wanted them to put their best foot forward.

Personally, Rogue would rather put her best foot up the inspectors’ asses.

The quad was much less crowded when she emerged from the mansion, so she let her stride lengthen as she marched out of the circle of buildings and towards the woods. Despite his role among the X-Men, the mutant Rogue needed to see did not spend his days in the shiny, ultra-modern research complex that stood next to the mansion. Instead, David Alleyne, codenamed Prodigy, occupied a comparatively small house out of sight of the main campus. Like Rogue, he preferred a bit of distance from others. Beast’s occasional attempts to bring him closer were always gently rebuffed.

She knocked once on the door, which opened automatically, admitting her to a brightly lit room that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a TV show’s idea of what a lab should look like. Medical diagnostic equipment stood right next to chemistry sets, engineering tools sat on top of rock samples. It was the sort of catchall “science stuff” that people who knew nothing about science would associate with a scientist’s workspace. However, in the real world no one person could possibly specialize in this many different kinds of study.

With one, very notable exception.

Prodigy was standing at the counter holding the medical equipment, looking into a microscope. He didn’t look up as Rogue approached, which gave her plenty of opportunity to let her eyes wander.

She’d always been vaguely aware that Prodigy was a looker, sort of the way you knew the sky was blue. It was just kind of there, always at the edge of your awareness. Rogue hadn’t really given it much thought until shortly after her breakup with a certain Cajun.

One day, during a team meeting, she’d been sitting in the back of the room, trying to avoid talking with anyone. She’d quickly grown tired of people treating her like glass, like Gambit was the only chance she’d ever had at love, and now that he was gone, she was inevitably doomed to a life of loneliness. Then, Prodigy had walked in like some sort of runway model, wearing a dark pair of slacks and a dark red button up, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, both garments perfectly tailored to his muscular physique.

She knew that Prodigy was fit, but sweet Lord, when had he gotten _fit_?! He had no physical mutations, so he had to have come by his body the old-fashioned way, which was somehow even hotter.

And it wasn’t just that he had the kind of body that actors paid millions of dollars for, it was the grace with which he’d navigated the crowded space. He was as light on his feet as a dancer, sidestepping chairs, bags, and outstretched legs so nimbly that he practically seemed to teleport across the room.

She could barely stop herself from staring like she’d never seen him before as he settled himself into a chair only a few feet from her. Her eyes immediately went to his arms, draped casually across the edge of the chair. Her gaze traced the dark skin of his forearms down to his hands, much larger than she’d ever realized. Almost involuntarily, she found herself imagining what those hands would feel like cupping the back of her head as his lips bent to hers…

Rogue hadn’t paid attention to a single thing they’d talked about in that meeting, consumed in her unexpected obsession with her quiet, almost regal looking teammate. Much later she would remember that daydreaming in a room with several telepaths wasn’t the best idea. In the moment, however, her mind was focused on nothing else.

Although she initially assumed that her sudden fixation on Prodigy was simply the result of her subconscious focusing on someone besides Gambit, the following weeks proved her wrong. The intense crush she developed was far from the absent wanderings of a lonely mind. And it wasn’t just his looks that continued to draw her in. Prodigy was, in many respects, the polar opposite of her ex. He was tidy where Gambit was messy, serious where he was goofy, straight-backed and controlled where he was irreverent. She suspected the contrasts were exactly fanned the flames of her interest. Better to focus on someone different than spend her time fixating on what she didn’t have anymore…

She thus found herself finding excuses to visit the reclusive mutant and ended up lingering in his company far more than was necessary. She kept waiting for him to show some emotion besides his calm reserve, whether irritation at her hovering or enjoyment of her attention, but he never did. Despite being discouraged by his apparent lack of interest, she kept coming back.

“How did it go?” Prodigy asked, still focused on whatever he was studying in the microscope. His voice, despite being quiet, filled the lab with its bass rumble.

“Just fine,” she said, pulling herself out of her musings and hopping up to sit on the counter next to him. “Got some pretty good shots for the G-men to ignore.”

Prodigy straightened and blinked a couple times like he was flexing. The movement showed off the unusual gold color of his eyes, the only outward physical sign of his mutation. “Well hopefully _we_ can at least get some use out of them. And thankfully you didn’t have to waste a whole day flying across the country.”

He reached out a hand for the camera, and Rogue passed it over, wishing his fingers were brushing her skin instead of the ever-present gloves. The familiar longing seemed to only get stronger, despite the fact that she genuinely couldn’t remember what it felt like to touch another person…

She did her best to push these thoughts away as Prodigy put his glasses on and scanned quickly through the pictures Rogue had taken. His eyes widened slightly as he went.

“Not particularly subtle, are they?” he muttered.

Rogue chuckled. “Pretty much exactly what I thought. Whaddya think? What’ll their excuse be for not takin’ this seriously?”

Prodigy lowered the camera, his eyes seeming to flicker briefly. “They’ll probably argue that it’s not admissible, since you’re not law enforcement and we didn’t have a warrant to take these photos.” His voice was almost robotic, like he was reciting. “Then I imagine they will attempt to turn it back on us and threaten us with trespassing charges.”

“But I never set foot in the place, I was flyin’ the whole time!” Rogue objected.

He shook his head. “Irrelevant. The point will be legal intimidation, to try to get us to back off.”

Rogue slumped, her last hope fading out. “Why’d the Professor bother havin’ me do it then?”

Prodigy shrugged, his tone returning to normal. “The hell if I know. Vange will have told him all this already; it’s her knowledge I was pulling it from.”

“Well I just hope he gives us the go ahead to level ‘em soon. That whole place gave me the creeps.” She shuddered slightly.

“I imagine that’s coming.” Prodigy set the camera back down and leaned against a table opposite her. The casual pose as he folded his arms drew even more attention to his muscle definition. Rogue had always loved fit men, and she was really thankful Jean had never mentioned a couple deeply inappropriate fantasies she’d had about Scott.

“He’s probably trying to cover his bases so he can spin it better when we do finally take them out,” Prodigy went on. Suddenly, he squinted at her. “Are you alright, you look at bit flushed?”

Rogue hastily looked back at his face. “I’m fine, just a bit warm after the flight,” she invented wildly, doing everything she could not to squirm or press her thighs together.

“I can turn the temperature down,” Prodigy offered.

A devious idea came into Rogue’s head at that moment. She’d subtly tried to catch his attention a few times already, but maybe something a bit more overt was in order. “Nah, I just need to get outta this suit soon. Gets kinda hot in here, ya know?”

As if to illustrate her point, she pulled the zipper down from her neck at a speed just this side of slow. She stopped above her stomach, knowing that Prodigy was now getting quite the eyeful of her cleavage. Suddenly it was his turn to look a bit warm in the face. She took it up another notch by stretching her arms high above her, arching her back as she did so. Prodigy coughed lightly and glanced away.

Rogue grinned wickedly at _finally_ getting some kind of reaction out of him. She wasn’t quite finished yet though…

“Well, I better go get this the rest of the way off. Got a nice bath waitin’ for me.” She didn’t know exactly _how_ Prodigy’s powers worked, but she did her best to conjure up an incredibly detailed image of _precisely_ what she was planning to do in her bath. With luck, he’d pick up on her intentions.

“Yeah, um, okay.” Prodigy cleared his throat, still not looking directly at her. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“See ya, sugar.” She winked at him and strode for the exit, putting a little extra sway in her hips. She paused at the door, unable to resist a quick glance over her shoulder to see if she could catch him staring.

He was indeed, but she hadn’t been expecting the intensity in his beautiful golden eyes. It looked like he was struggling to restrain himself, brow furrowed and hands gripping the table tightly as if to keep him anchored in place. She couldn’t even _remember_ the last time Remy had looked at her like that; like he was a starving man and she was a feast. Her stomach clenched in a reaction almost like fear, but much, _much_ , more thrilling.

Then, the look was gone as Prodigy realized he’d been caught. His expression quickly smoothed out, leaving none of the burning fire in its wake.

Rogue, however, was absolutely positive that her face was bright red from how warm she was feeling. She tried to give him a friendly smile, but she wasn’t sure it was at all effective, before practically fleeing the lab.

She was still thinking about Prodigy and that brief flash of unbridled desire she’d glimpsed when she got back to her room and eagerly stripped off the jumpsuit. She thought about him as she got a bath running and poured herself a glass of merlot. And she was definitely thinking about him once she sank into the water and her muscles began to relax.

Rogue was determined to mimic the images she’d conjured up for Prodigy, starting with a light neck massage. In the days before her mutation, she’d always loved having her neck rubbed. It was a little awkward trying to do it herself, but she closed her eyes and tried to imagine it was Prodigy’s strong hands caressing her skin as she leaned back against him.

When the knots of tension had been kneaded out, she trailed her fingers lightly down the side of her jaw, picturing Prodigy’s beautifully full lips laying feathery kisses against her sensitive skin while his hands wandered lower…

Given that over the clothes action was just about the only safe thing for Rogue to try, she had at least some idea of what it was like for a guy to grab her tits. She tried to focus on those limited experiences while her hands cupped her breasts and teased her nipples. However, she kept getting distracted, knowing that Prodigy’s hands were much larger than hers. Her fingers were too soft as well, the result of a lifetime of wearing gloves. Would Prodigy’s be rougher? How might she respond to the rasp of calluses against her skin. She tried pinching her nipples harder, struggling to imagine the sensation.

She was getting impatient now, but she guessed that Prodigy wouldn’t be the type to rush anything. He would undoubtedly bring that same methodical dedication to the bedroom (bathroom, whatever) that he did to all his work. So she let her hands skim as much of her body as she could, trying to disassociate from her actions as much as possible to make the touch feel foreign and unexpected. It was working; she felt her breathing quicken at the faux-Prodigy’s exploration.

She imagined tilting her head back to beg him quietly to touch her. He would say he already was, and she would groan in frustration and tell him he knew what she meant. But he still wouldn’t give her what she needed, playfully forcing her to make her desire explicit.

“Please, Prodigy,” she moaned aloud, caught up in the fantasy. “Please touch my pussy. Make me come. I _need_ you to make me come!”

And he would oblige, finally slipping a finger between her legs. Even accounting for the bathwater, she was already slippery wet from his teasing. His touch would be finger light against her clit, rubbing in the most perfect, tiny circles. She spread her legs, hoisting one over the edge of the tub in her eagerness to give him as much access as possible.

The pleasure was already building, driving her quickly toward what she was sure would be an earth-shattering orgasm. Prodigy kept going, his pace steady and perfect, with just the right amount of pressure. He would whisper in her ear that he wanted to see her come for him, and the sound of his soft, deep voice be just the push she needed to drive her over the edge. Her legs would shake, and her back arch, spilling bathwater onto the tile. Prodigy would hold her through her climax, keeping her body tight against his, and even in the midst of her pleasure, she would be aware of the hardness of his erection pressing into her back. After the waves subsided, she would go limp against him and sit there bonelessly for who knew how many glorious minutes.

Then, once she’d recovered, she would turn around to return the favor…

This is how it should have gone. But in reality, Rogue found herself perched on that precipice, seemingly unable to move. As much as she tried, she couldn’t get any closer to the incredible orgasm that fantasy version of herself had experienced. No matter what she wished, it was just her in this tub, struggling to imitate the touch of a man she’d never actually known that way…

The water had started to grow cold by the time she finally gave up, splashing angrily at the wall and sitting up to rest her head in her hands. She struggled for a moment against tears before finally giving up and sobbing quietly into the empty bathroom. A profound sense of helplessness engulfed her, and only once she actually started to shiver did she reluctantly drag herself out of the tub.

As she wandered listlessly out into her little apartment, her eyes fell on the newly opened bottle of wine. She’d left the glass somewhere in the bathroom and didn’t have it in her to go back for it. Instead, she just snagged the bottle off the counter and took a swig.

If she couldn’t get off, she could at least get drunk. Hardly a fair trade, but since when had anything in her life been fair?


	2. Over Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note for some of the contents of this chapter, I don't know much about the history of psychology beyond what I lazily googled while writing. So if I got everything totally wrong...let's just pretend I didn't.

Rogue regretted her decision the next morning when she woke with a splitting headache. Wincing blearily at her phone, she received an unpleasant jolt of panic when she realized she only had about twenty minutes until she needed to teach.

On any other day, she might have seriously considered just cancelling class, but the government hacks were going to be here today, and she was sure they’d love any excuse to mark the Institute down. So, very reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed, popped a couple of Tylenol, and took the quickest shower of her life, desperately attempting to make herself something resembling presentable.

In the end, she managed to make it to her class on time.

Barely.

As she was hurriedly setting up her slides for the day, a middle-aged woman in a suit approached her.

“Hello, are you Professor,” the woman consulted a clipboard and her eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Rogue?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Rogue replied, trying desperately to sound polite. The pounding in her head didn’t seem to be going anywhere. “I’m guessin’ you’re the evaluator.”

The woman smiled; a sickly-sweet expression that didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s right. My name’s Dr. Claire. Could I ask what your real name is by any chance? Professor Xavier apparently forgot to provide it.”

Rogue bristled. “He didn’t forget. Rogue _is_ my real name.”

The eyebrows rose just a little higher. “Legally? That’s interesting, we didn’t see any name changes come up in our pre-review.”

“That’s cuz you gotta have proof of birth to change your name in New York,” Rogue said, struggling against her already frayed nerves. “My parents burned my birth certificate when they found out I was a mutant, and the government always seems to lose my requests for a replacement. You got a problem with documentation, take it up with them. Now do you mind if I get started, we’re already late.”

Dr. Claire smiled that sickly-sweet smile again, but her eyes narrowed. “Of course,” she said, going to sit on the other end of the square table, making it impossible for Rogue to avoid looking at her.

There were only six students in Rogue’s History of Psychology course, the college portion of the Institute still being relatively small. That meant Dr. Claire’s presence was conspicuous, and the students kept shooting furtive glances at her.

“Alright!” Rogue said, calling attention to the front of the class. “Last week we left off on the rise of lunatic asylums in the 19th century. If ya’ll remember, the Industrial Revolution and invention of vaccines stabilized European and American populations quite a bit. So you start seeing this growth happenin.’”

She clicked on a slide showing a chart of population growth over time before flipping to a similar chart of the number of asylums in the U.S. Claire was scribbling on her notepad, but Rogue did her best to ignore her.

“Population increases, plus growing interest in psychology means you get a huge bump in the number of psychiatric facilities. By the start of the 1900s, there were about a hundred thousand patients bein’ treated, and they changed the name to ‘mental asylums.’” Rogue put quotations around the term to show what she thought of the difference.

“Now who can tell me how they think these changes affected mutants?”

She looked around at her students, but it was Dr. Claire who spoke up.

“Excuse me,” she said in that irritatingly sweet tone, “I must have missed something. Why are you discussing _mutants_ in a History of Psychology course?” She put the slightest emphasis on the word ‘mutants,’ as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Rogue looked at the woman incredulously. “Because, mutants are part of history,” she said slowly, as if speaking to small child.

Dr. Claire was undeterred. “But mutants have only existed for the last seventy or so years in any noticeable numbers.”

Rogue had to push down a flicker of righteous indignation that had a definite tinge of Mystique. “Well you’re actually givin’ me the perfect segue,” she said, trying desperately to stay professional. She flipped to yet another chart. “You’re right that there’s been a lot of growth in mutant birthrates durin’ the last hundred years or so. Best guess is we make up about .4% of the population right now. But there’s still a lot of documented cases of mutants goin’ as far back as the Stone Age, so there were definitely a good number around the turn of the century. What do ya’ll imagine that means?”

One of the students, a fairly young, purple skinned boy named Jeremy raised his hand, and Rogue pointed at him in relief, hoping Claire would pipe down.

“That a lot of them were probably put in the asylums?” he said.

Rogue nodded and gave him an encouraging smile. “That’s exactly right. We’ve estimated that as much as ten percent of the patients in these early mental institutions were mutants. That means that mutants were some of the earliest test subjects of modern psychiatric treatments like-”

She was interrupted by Claire, who burst out, “Now that’s just ridiculous! There’s no evidence to support those conclusions. Where are you getting that kind of information from?”

Rogue closed her eyes briefly against the throbbing in her skull. “The Mutant Reclamation Project is housed here in the Institute. They’ve been tryin’ to piece together as much of our history as they can. You know, artifacts, diaries, books, records, that kinda thing.” She turned back to the class, trying vainly to regain control. “A lotta the old patient logs talk about conditions that sound awfully familiar to us right now.”

She pulled up a picture of an old, yellowed sheet of paper. “See right here, we got a doctor talkin’ about a patient who claimed his hearin’ was about ten times better than your average human, like a dog or cat. He would tell the docs about stuff that was happenin’ in other rooms, but they just assumed he was near a vent, or somethin’ like that. We can look at this now and figure he was probably a mutant.”

Jeremy raised his hand again. “What happened to him?”

Rogue sighed unhappily. “Well, unfortunately the docs couldn’t figure out a way to ‘cure’ him, so eventually they lobotomized him. Records say he was catatonic the rest of his life.”

“I’m sorry, but this sounds like pure guesswork.” Dr. Claire’s tone was no longer sweet, but an inch short of openly hostile. “There are _no_ textbooks that mention mutants before the 1990s at the earliest, and certainly not in relation to old mental asylums or medical experiments!”

Rogue was completely unprepared for the images of sterile rooms, hard tables, and the unforgettable feel of needles and scalpels cutting into her skin. She knew where the memories were coming from, but Magneto was usually quieter than that. “That’s because just about _anything_ that mentions mutants gets rejected for publication,” She replied through gritted teeth, forcing the images down. “I’ve had half a dozen papers turned down by every psychology journal in the country.”

Claire waved dismissively. “Well they were probably just poorly written. I mean you don’t even have a doctorate. Where is your degree from anyway?”

Rogue bristled and had to stop her fists clenching on the table. “My _Master’s_ is from NYU,” she bit out. “But both my coauthors have PhDs, and plenty of _non_ -mutant publications. Do you see the common denominator?”

However, Claire was not discouraged. “That’s not proof of anything. What were they about anyway?”

Rogue smiled humorlessly. “Funny you should ask. A couple were actually exploring the involuntary psychiatric commitment of mutant kids in the last couple decades. It’s actually a real problem; parents trying to ‘fix’ their kids with medication.”

Claire’s face was now actually turning red. “I’m sure you cherrypicked your subjects then, because if it were really a big issue then we would have heard about it.”

“We _have_ heard about it!” Rogue replied furiously. “You talk to any mutant, guaranteed they know at _least_ one person whose been institutionalized against their will!”

“That’s not true!” Claire scoffed. “I’m sure _these_ kids don’t know anyone like that.” She gestured around the classroom.

Before Rogue could reassure her students that they didn’t need to respond to such an invasive question, a girl named Aurora, who Rogue was positive had not spoken once that semester piped up.

“I was,” she said quietly, not looking at anyone. “My parents had me committed right after my mutation activated. I didn’t get out until Professor Xavier convinced them to give up parental rights.”

Claire sneered at the young mutant. “Well I’m sure they were more than happy to be rid of you then!”

Aurora sank even further into her chair, tears welling in her eyes. That was as much as Rogue could take. Every mutant in sharing her brain roared out in anger, and she was not at all inclined to silence them. She slammed a hand down on the table, causing the wood to splinter. The room fell deadly silent as everyone present stared at her.

“Get out,” she told Claire, her voice quiet. “Right now!”

“I’m afraid my evaluation is not complete,” Claire said with a smug little smile.

“Oh I’m afraid it is.” Rogue walked around the table and stared down at the useless bureaucrat. “You got two options right now. You either get up and walk out that door, or I throw you through the window.”

The high and mighty expression slowly slid off Claire’s face as she realized Rogue was completely serious. Quickly, she gathered up her clipboard, pen, and purse, and moved hastily for the exit. Evidently though, she couldn’t resist one last parting shot.

“This will be going in my report, you know!” she said indignantly, pausing next to the door. “In twenty years of work, I have never once been physically threatened!”

Rogue snorted. “I very much doubt that. Now for the last time, get the fuck out!”

White faced, her mouth pressed into a furious line, the woman finally left, her heels clacking audibly down the hall.

Rogue slumped into the chair Claire had just vacated and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. The choir of voices in her head was practically screaming, the noise threatening to overwhelm her. It took a few minutes to quiet them down and regain a semblance of control over herself. When she looked up, she realized nearly all the students were staring at her, open mouthed. All except Aurora, who was still looking at her lap, tears silently falling down her cheeks.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one day, don’t ya’ll?” she said with an attempt at a smile. “Why don’t we let out early? For homework have a look through some of the documents I uploaded. I put content warnings ahead of anything I thought might be unpleasant, so don’t read anythin’ you don’t feel up to, alright?”

She’d never met a student who would object to an abbreviated class, and this group was no exception. They packed their bags and filed out with a speed that suggested the building was on fire, chatting excitedly about Rogue’s confrontation with the evaluator. No doubt that story would spread like wildfire.

“Hold on, Aurora, I wanna talk with you a sec,” she said, catching the pale mutant before she made it out of the door.

The girl stopped walking and stood, eyes downcast next to the door.

“Here, have a seat with me.” Rogue indicated the chair next to her.

Hesitantly, Aurora walked over and perched on the edge of the chair.

Rogue leaned forward. “I just wanted to say, I thought it was really brave, what you said to that awful woman. She had no right talkin’ to you like that, and I’m sorry I didn’t kick her out sooner. I’m also sorry your parents treated you that way.”

“It’s okay,” Aurora mumbled.

“No it’s not okay,” Rogue insisted. “It’s never okay for folks to treat their kids like that. It isn’t fair to you, and you never gotta pretend otherwise.”

Aurora sniffled, and fresh tears leaked down her cheeks.

“You know, I don’t share this with a lotta people,” Rogue said in a low voice. “But my parents kicked me out too. My dad actually chased me out with a shotgun.”

For the first time, Aurora looked up, her teary eyes wide. “Really?”

Rogue nodded. “Yep. Spent about a year homeless, just movin’ from place to place before I got taken in.” She reached out and patted one of Aurora’s hands with her own gloved one. “It doesn’t ever really stop hurtin’ but you don’t gotta go through it alone. You can always talk to Dr. Grey. Or me, if you don’t like that whole mind readin’ thing.”

Aurora’s face finally broke out into a small, watery smile. “Thanks, Professor.”

“Anytime, kid,” Rogue reassured her as they stood. “I’d offer to give you a hug, but I’m probably the last person you wanna risk touching right now.”

Aurora stood there undecidedly for a moment. Then, to Rogue’s intense surprise, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Rogue’s waist. Rogue returned the embrace carefully, making sure her exposed neck and face were as far from the girl as possible.

“Now go on, enjoy the rest of your day,” Rogue said once they separated. Aurora smiled quickly again and left, her step just a bit brighter than it had been before.

Once she was gone, Rogue groaned and put her head back in her hands. She couldn’t really imagine that having gone worse unless she actually _had_ thrown the woman out of the window. She replayed the last half hour in her mind, trying to figure out if there was _something_ she could have done different, but nothing occurred to her. Even as the evaluator had gotten more and more hostile, she’d done her best to stay calm and polite. Coming after Aurora like that had been crossing a line, it would have been a betrayal of her students to let Claire stay after that.

Hopefully the Professor would see it that way too…

She taught two more lessons that afternoon, both cooking classes with the high school students. Luckily, the government didn’t feel the need to evaluate their pie making skills, and the only disruption she had to deal with was a couple rowdy boys flicking breadcrumbs at the girls they liked.

At the end of the day, she sat in the communal living room reserved for instructors, or the “teacher’s lounge” as the students liked to call it. She’d rather have been in her own little suite of rooms, watching trashy TV and eating massive amounts of cake, but the Professor wanted to debrief after the evaluation. One by one, the other instructors wandered in looking just as haggard as she felt.

“Fuck _me_ that was brutal,” Kitty complained, falling into a chair next to Rogue.

“I’m guessin’ your evaluators weren’t too friendly neither?” Rogue said.

Kitty gave a quick, humorless chuckle. “That’s putting it mildly. They accused me of teaching the kids how to hack into government systems. It was like they thought I was trying to turn them into terrorists. Christ, we were only working with Python! What about you?”

Rogue scowled. “I had to kick my lady out after she made Aurora cry. Basically told me I was makin’ up a history of mutant oppression that didn’t exist.”

Logan grunted from his spot by the liquor cabinet. “Got the same thing talkin’ about the Armenian Genocide. Like I didn’t see it with my own eyes!”

Apparently, these hadn’t been isolated experiences. Even though the Professor hadn’t arrived yet, the floodgates seemed to be opening, and other members of the team began sharing the accusations that had been leveled against them.

“Evidently discussing evolution in a biology class is rather frowned upon,” Beast reflected pensively.

“That’s nothing!” Jubilee replied as she leaned on Logan’s shoulder. “I got a flat earther. A literal fucking flat earther! Can you believe that?”

On it went. Colossus had been accused of being some kind of Russian agent before he could even pull up his presentation on Impressionist Art. Bobby’s evaluator thought his chemistry lesson had been on how to make bombs. They’d even managed to imply that Kurt reading passages of _Merchant of Venice_ was somehow seditious, whatever the hell that meant.

By the time the Professor rolled in, Scott trailing, the grumbles had escalated into a full-blown riot of grievances, not helped by Logan and Jubilee distributing drinks.

Xavier smiled slightly at the sight of them bitching like they were still students themselves. “I see you’ve gotten started without me.”

“What the hell, Professor?” Kitty called over the din. “You might’ve warned us about the torches and pitchforks _beforehand_?”

Her tone was joking, but the Professor’s expression was completely somber. “I’m afraid I didn’t know until this afternoon. The new Secretary of Education has been careful to only communicate with me electronically up to this point. I was hoping today’s evaluation would be undertaken in good faith. Clearly that wasn’t the case.” He paused, looking around at the assembled X-Men, for the most part some of his oldest students. “I am very sorry to all of you for putting you through something so trying.”

“What’d they get you on, Scott?” Jubilee shouted over Logan’s head.

Scott looked sheepish. “They surprised me with some idiotic question about Genosha’s parliament, and before I knew it we were debating the merits of autocracies. Apparently, I’m indoctrinating them, or something.”

“Did anyone _not_ get ambushed by these people?” Jubilee asked.

“Since you asked, Prodigy handled his review exceptionally well,” Professor Xavier remarked with a twinkle in his eye.

A couple dozen curious pairs of eyes turned towards Prodigy, who was sitting quietly in the corner as usual. He looked uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

“We were starting on the piano,” he explained reluctantly. “What sinister plot can you read into Mary Had a Little Lamb?”

“As a matter of fact, he had a rather ingenious argument prepared,” Professor Xavier corrected gently. “But your demonstration at the beginning rather affected him. Tell me, why did you decide to play the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata?”

Prodigy frowned. “It just…came to mind. I’m guessing I got that from him?”

“Indeed,” Xavier smiled. “It happens to be his favorite piece of music. He played it at his mother’s funeral. The memories were evidently so strong, he completely forgot he was meant to interrogate you. His feelings about mutants are somewhat confused now.”

A quiet laugh went through the lounge.

“Where does that leave us?” Beast inquired, absently swirling a snifter of brandy. Rogue rolled her eyes. Even when getting wasted he looked more dignified than the rest of them.

Xavier gave a heavy sigh. “From what I could gather, they will use these evaluations as an excuse to cut funding from the Department of Education, at least temporarily. If they can, they will attempt to revoke our accreditation on all levels. Then they will appeal to have all diplomas and degrees retroactively revoked.”

The mood in the lounge dropped perceptibly. Someone out of Rogue’s sight quietly remarked, “Well shit.”

“Does that mean we need to update our resumes?” Kitty joked, but the Professor took the question seriously again. Rogue wondered if there were people in the room seriously considering a change of profession.

“We’ll be fine in the short term,” he reassured them. “Our endowment is healthy and profits off the patents we hold should help offset the loss of federal money. This also won’t affect our research grants.”

“But they will eventually,” Rogue felt compelled to interject. “I mean, there ain’t a chance this is an isolated thing, right? They’re probably usin’ this as a test case, and if it works a bunch of other agencies are gonna do the same.”

Scott and Xavier exchanged grim looks. “I fear you’re right,” Xavier admitted. “I’ll be meeting with Storm tomorrow to see what we can do to counter these attempts.”

Ororo Munroe, better known as Storm to her former comrades, was now Secretary of Mutant Affairs Monroe. Why she’d taken the job Rogue had no idea, but there was nothing quite like watching her eviscerate some puffed up Senator on the floor of Congress.

“In the meantime,” Professor Xavier continued, suddenly businesslike, “try to keep things as normal as possible. We don’t want the students worrying about their future here until we know more.”

There were nods of agreement and assent, and people started getting up and filtering out.

“You doing anything fun tonight?” Kitty asked. Rogue had stayed seated, not wanting to risk brushing against someone by accident while trying to get out.

“I was plannin’ to see how much of a chocolate cake I can eat by myself,” Rogue replied. “Unless you feel like joinin’ me?”

Before Kitty could reply though, someone tapped Rogue on the shoulder. She twisted around in her seat to see Prodigy standing behind her.

“Can I have a quick word with you, Rogue?” he asked.

Rogue exchanged a quick, confused glance with Kitty before saying, “Sure, yeah, no problem.”

She got up and followed Prodigy back to his corner.

“I have kind of a strange request,” he said quietly.

Rogue was intrigued now. The memory of his blazing gold stare was still strong in her mind, and she wondered if he’d decided to do something about it.

“I wanted your permission to test the blood samples you have in storage.”

Rogue blinked. That _hadn’t_ been what she was expecting. “Come again?”

“I’m working on a project,” he replied unhelpfully. “I can tell you more about it later, but right now I was hoping to have a look at your blood.”

If it was some kind of attempt at a pickup, she couldn’t figure out how. “Um, sure, knock yourself out.”

Prodigy smiled slightly. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’ll let you know when I have something concrete to report.”

With that, he walked gracefully towards the exit, leaving Rogue to stare after him in puzzlement.

“What’d he want?” Kitty asked eagerly, rejoining Rogue. “Did he ask you out?”

Rogue continued to frown. “No, he wanted to analyze my blood.”

Kitty’s excitement collapsed in on itself. “What is _wrong_ with that boy?”

“Maybe he’s just not interested,” Rogue shrugged, attempting to sound nonchalant. Perhaps she’d just been imagining the way he’d looked at her, her desperate mind making up attraction where there was none.

_You are thoroughly unlovable after all_.

She wasn’t sure whose voice that was. Given how often she thought it, it might as well be her own.

“Oh he’s interested,” Kitty said fervently, perhaps noticing her friend’s poor mood. “I catch him looking _all_ the time. If he were any more interested he’d have a sign on his forehead. I bet he’s just trying to give you space after Gambit. You know, not crowd you or anything.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little crowding now and then,” Rogue mumbled unhappily.

Kitty just laughed and threw a careful arm around Rogue’s waist. “C’mon, no more moping tonight. Didn’t you say something about chocolate cake?”

Rogue did her best to tear her mind away from frustrating mutant men. “Yeah, that’s right. Ready to help me put a dent in it?”

“Only if you can find the absolute _worst_ reality show to make fun of while we eat,” Kitty countered.

“Oh, I think I can manage,” Rogue said with a devilish smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked how this story started, and I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Unfortunately, I can't guarantee a regular update schedule, as real life tends to intrude more often than I would like. I plan for this to be a decent sized fic, but I'll try to not make you wait too long for new chapters! Stay safe and be well!


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